The Lie
by chaoswalking
Summary: The scene in which Chell parts with her beloved companion, short-story style.  Sorry, it's not word for word, but I hope you think it captures the emotion, and whatnot :


**Note: **Portal and all it's characters belong to Valve.

"Don't worry," she whispers, hugging it to her body. "I won't ever leave you behind."

It does not reply. The orange of her jumpsuit is pale and spotted in its shiny grooves and corners. She smiles, and hugs it tight again.

She runs across the room. The white of it all blinded her at first, the cold stares of machines and blank walls the only company she had. That, and the voice. The voice that helped her, gave it to her. The voice that would never, ever cheat her. Would never lie.

And now she had a friend.

"Cake," she explains to it, as she blasts a dimension defying hole through the nearest wall, "is the essence of life."

The voice has been silent. The only noise is the pleading, gentle whine of the turrets, humming hauntingly through the chamber. She despises them. They are pointless, horrible things, innocent to the point of annoyance. And they don't like cake.

"You like cake, though don't you?" she asks worriedly, vaulting through the blue sparks of the portal, and landing cleanly on a short glass tablet. "Of course you do." She laughs. It feels fantastic.

She puts it down for a second. It stares back up at her, and she can feel the raw pink warmth of its affection glide through her, the way chocolate glides over the surface of the batter, fluffed and light.

It waits as she slaps two portals into the chamber, sending a whirling sphere of light bouncing into the white.

The button is red. A cherry red, forcibly cheerful, and strangely grim.

She bends over to pick it up. She so desperately wants to touch it, to caress the smooth steel, and kiss the happy pink if its heart. But instead, she aims the gun at it, and levitates it carefully over to the button.

It falls with a soft _plink_. The button squishes inward, and the round door slides open, the voice resonating from places unknown.

"Good work. I'm so GLaD you two are getting along." She gives a cold, inverted sigh. "Well, this is so sad. I was planning on a better surprise than this one."

It sits placidly in her arms. But she can feel its core begin to squirm in uncomfortable anxiety.

"What's the matter, cubie?" she croons, rubbing it along the top. "She's not mean. She's got a surprise for us, cubie. She's got cake for us! She never lies."

She skips through the door. It snaps shut with a plump hiss behind her. It's practically screaming in her arms now, but it is still silent, still loyal.

Another door. She waves at it, as if the voice can see her.

"Almost there, cubie!" she chirps happily. "I can almost taste the cake!"

"There will be cake." The voice assures her slyly. "Just open the door."

She looks around for a button. There is nothing, nothing but a round, raised lump protruding from the farthest corner of the chamber.

"It has been a faithful companion, but it cannot accompany you throughout the test." The voice says bluntly. "You must now incinerate the Weighted Companion Cube."

She stops dead in her tracks. It slips from her arms, and tumbles to the meticulously polished floor.

Suddenly, she whips down and snatches it up, clutching it to her chest protectively, tears running daintily down her cheeks.

She licks her lips. The taste of chocolate and sugar and milk dances lightly on her tongue, and if she closes her eyes, if she really concentrates, she can see a single candle, flickering joyfully around the darkness, rooting out the uncertainty she's felt since waking.

"No. I'll never leave you," she snaps. "You like cake too. I want to eat cake with you."

"Now this is just stupid," the voice whines. "Just drop the silly cube into the fire, and I promise, I won't send you to Android Hell,"

"Liar!" she shrieks, sprinting towards the door. She jams her nails into the cracks, and tries to force it open, her muscles straining. But all it does is chip her pink polish, and groan angrily.

"Just burn the cube, and you will have cake," the voice soothes softly. "You will have cake,"

Behind her, the cylinder whirs and clunks. The top retracts smoothly into the lip, and she can see the spark of fire on the ceiling.

"I really like cake," she whispers to it, holding it at an arms length. She can see the pale blue of her eyes reflected in its side. The dull ashen black of her hair as it snakes from its ponytail.

"If you love cake so much, just burn that thing, and hurry up," the voice sounds impatient, edgy now.

She walks across the room, slowly, as if in a trance, a dream. Her bare feet are cold on the thick floor, and the soft scratch-clack of the devices attached to her jumpsuit pants are the only sound.

The fire is a wild beast, roaring and growling. She holds it over the flames, her arms trembling. Her face is slick with tears.

She drops it. The minute it leaves her fingers, she misses the cool touch of it.

"Congratulations," the voice intones. "It took you a much shorter time to incinerate the cube than it took the other test subjects," she sighs again. "They were failures. You're different, you cold-hearted, cruel girl. You must be really hungry. Or really stupid."

She pauses, and the door shifts apart. The light from the elevator is harsh an unforgiving.

"You will have cake. Do I look like I would lie to you?"


End file.
